Clockwork Chronicles: Worries
by rwbybomb21
Summary: Part of a series. Parents were a worry; what would they think? What would they do? This had been on the backs of their minds so long, that when the real issue came around, they were unprepared with...worries. Art credit to crimsonsnowfield on DA.


She didn't know when it began, the racing feeling within her left breast; her heart pumping blood at the mere sight and her eyes twitching rapidly.

The issue, being, that she didn't have a heart, no blood nor eyes able to twitch. It was all very confusing, and she had pondered upon it countless hours afterwards; her eyes looked downwards as she extended her left hand's ring finger.

The diamond jewel sat within a simple silver band looked nice enough, complementing her steel body and blue eyes, but it didn't...feel right. she had felt another human emotion a week ago when she proposed to Caitlyn; though that woman always made her feel human emotions, that was probably why she approached Caitlyn one night, confessing- albeit unintentionally- her emotions to the usually strict and uptight sheriff of Piltover.

The Ball whirred next to her, as if reading her thoughts, reminding her of the impending meeting.

She was to meet Caitlyn's, her fiancé's, parents; that could not go or end well, but it was by insistence from her parents themselves, deigning rule over her daughter's life once more. Orianna's father- Read: Creator- had, quite literally, almost had a heart attack, smiling till his lip split and bled. He was overwhelmed with joy when he heard the news from his daughter- Read: Creation- that she was to be wed- to the sheriff of Piltover no less!

But she was scared, fearful of the events to occur in a mere two days' time.

Fear was an emotion long lost to her, one that escaped her time and again, creating a desensitisation to her metallic, yet able-to-feel, heart. She felt it once, on the field, but that wasn't even the real feeling of fear; the effects of the League's Fields of justice were, despite origin, everyone could feel emotions. She had plenty of mess-ups due to the fact that fear, submission, happiness, sadness, anger and spite all wormed themselves within her thrumming, humming Hextech heart, creating emotions she had never felt before and never wished to feel again.

Well, the happiness and elation she felt when Caitlyn smiled at her confession are things she could get used to. A small tug of her metallic lips and the weary, widened eyes of her Summoner told her that no one had seen her smile- whether form memory or not- save for Caitlyn.

She thinned her lips.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

(^^^^^^)

Caitlyn had told Vi; it just slipped out, a moment of drunken weakness that came from the bottom of a bottle of Demacian Royal wine as she celebrated her proposal with her best friend. Turns out Vi already knew; how about that?

"Listen, Cupcake, you'll do fine. Your parents hate me, and I'm alive, so..." Vi trailed off seeing the utterly distraught look upon her partner's face, and rubbed a gigantic, gauntleted hand down her face from her brow, sighing heavily at her own stupidity; she really couldn't think before speaking. "That's...not what I meant to say. I mean, this girl's gotta be worth something to net you, right? Your folks might see it the same way."

Caitlyn sighed; Vi was right. Her parents weren't really parents if they didn't agree with her life choices and sexuality. She hadn't even come out to them yet, fearing disownment, the media catching wind, and the end of her career. But...maybe with Orianna and her creator, Corin Reveck, she could get over her loss...eventually.

She smiled wanly, causing Vi's inflated egotistical grin to split her face. It was an odd sight, seeing Vi so happy for another, but Caitlyn had saved her from a life of crime, maybe the woman was saving herself from a life of depression and angst; dwelling on the past was a bad thing for the human mind, Riven's cries and screams in the middle of the night from terrible, terrifying nightmares attested to that.

"Hmm, maybe...Hey Vi...? I told you it was a woman, correct?" Vi's eyebrows rose beyond the bangs of her purple-pink hair, before she rubbed the back of her neck and laughed sheepishly.

"Yeah...D-Don't worry, I ain't telling anyone..." her face brought up a look of fear as she rose her gauntleted hands in a surrender fashion; Caitlyn giggled. "Oh, good to see that you threatening to shoot me in the you-know-where made you laugh."

Caitlyn simply patted Vi's shoulder. "Don't you worry, it was an empty threat."

"Yeah, sure it was Cupcake."

Anyway...I didn't, perchance, let slip who exactly the person was, did I?" Vi simply looked confused, shaking her head, hair swishing side to side. "I apologise then, but I hope you understand that discretion is...sorely needed."

"It's that robotic chick Orianna, ain't it?" Caitlyn's jaw hit the floor, her eyes widened with panic. Vi chuckled, patting Caitlyn's back slightly, careful with the Hextech gauntlets. "Don't worry, I got ya. My lips are sealed."

A massive breath of pent up worry was released, and Caitlyn's shoulders visibly sagged, a weight metaphorically lifted from her shoulders and passed on to the next person to come across this issue. Her parents were a distant worry now that Vi had reassured her that her and Orianna's secret would remain just that from the Champions of the League.

An overly exaggerated slap on the back was accompanied by a small conspiring whisper, emphasised by a wink of an eyelid. For emphasis, she moved a massive gauntleted hand to cover her mouth, as if preserving what was said from outsiders to their conversation. "Well, until I get drunk, that is..."

Caitlyn's groan could be heard from Orianna's room.

Vi's laughter could be heard all over the League's institute.

"Would you two shut up? Some of us are trying to sleep!"

And Ezrael's three-in-the-morning shouting quieted said laughter.

(^^^^^^)

The first thing she saw when she arrived was the metallic polymer door, representing that of wood. The handle was thick, greasy from overuse but otherwise shining in the soft glint that was the backdrop of Piltover City, while the door itself didn't shine, the polymer's effects of not reflecting light showing clearly. Patterned like wood, the door itself was meant to look like some sort of natural oak door, inviting but also deceiving.

The second, with widened eyes, was the size of the windows themselves; frames made of natural wood, Hexglass plates lining the ordinary glass window, reinforcing them to become all but explosion proof. Curtains on the insides all matched the same theme, frilled yet oddly plain, a small criss-cross of nondescript rifles on the bottom left hand corner of each, about the size of a curled up fist.

Then there was the actual house itself; though, to call it a house would be a major understatement. Manor was more like the building that rested in front of her eyes, standing tall and as proud as Caitlyn and, undoubtedly her parents, did.

A small hand, rough through use yet soft on the centre of the palm, squeezed her hand just a little bit tighter. The smell of rosemary invaded her olfactory sensors, the filter that was known as a nose picking apart each small detail, sending the message of the memorised smell to the brain, for further analysis. There, the brain discovered the smell had not come from Caitlyn; she should know her smell off heart, but it proved that she wasn't as in touch with her 'human side' as the other mechanised humanoids in the League were.

She looked to Caitlyn curiously to see her back straight, hands clenched, despite holding hers surprisingly softly, and her eyes holding a look that said 'be careful'.

Orianna turned around again, looking downwards from the building's top- almost a spire, she mused- before looking at the object of Caitlyn's sudden odd behaviour- well, two objects.

"Mother," she bowed slightly, retaining the grip on Orianna's hand, to the woman dressed in what seemed to be a knee high skirt with white frills, a small plain yet colourful checkered pattern following the waist. The woman bowed in return before smiling at the sight of their conjoined hands. "...father."

The man with a bristled chin, unshaven from years of untidiness, smiled widely as Caitlyn attempted, and failed, to keep a small smile off her face. While her mother may be the looks and features, her father was the attitude and class of Caitlyn that she seemed to inherit perfectly; in fact, Orianna was shaking her head between the two women, glancing first at Caitlyn then her mother, then back and forth to see the resemblance; or lack thereof.

It was uncanny; they could have passed for twins if they wanted to. Her father caught sight of the wide expression on Orianna's face and the head looking between the two women as they chatted side by side idly. He walked over, tapping her on the shoulder and looking her in the spectral blue eyes before nodding to a far off area of the rather large garden.

Divide and...Well, ask questions. This had been his and his wife's plan all along.

He pointed to an old wooden bench, rotted from years of misuse, and frowned upon seeing its state. He then made a motion with his hand, the small smile never leaving his face, as he led his silent companion to a small metal bench, slightly rusted; but it would do.

"Take a seat, Oriana, we have much to discuss." He waved a hand at the seat, obliging her to sit before him, but she stayed stood, remained where she was.

"Sir, not to be rude, but I was taught to allow the host to sit before the guest."

A look of surprise graced his chiselled, age worn features, but he soon smiled. "Of course, of course."

After they both seated themselves, he looked to his left to see her idly twirling a small daisy, picked freshly from a small patch of them near here, and looking at it with wonder.

It was so...small, so fragile within her hands that she could break it if she wanted to, but the want wasn't there; the need to hold this flower until it wilted and died in her hands was there, protecting it until it leaves her in a breeze or no longer needs it. It oddly reminded Orianna of Caitlyn, how she could easily dispatch the woman countless times over, yet the want to do so was not there; instead, the want to protect flourished, and soon after that, love. She loved this little flower, so she loved her little Caitlyn. What also reminded Orianna of Caitlyn was the way this little flower seemed to lean into her touch, as if seeking the solace and warmth her cold body could not provide, yet clinging to her anyway.

Orianna smiled softly at the plant, watching as her own fingers twisted the plant away in the flourish of a cool breeze brushing her metal shell. The daisy seemed to protest, not leaving her fingers, and as she slightly shook her metallic digits to free them of the clinging plant, it refused. With a small smile, she used her other hand to gently lift the plat away form her finger before setting it free to the wind; who knows, maybe someone else would find the plant, keep it?

Then she sighed wistfully as she thought of Caitlyn again; the woman was so much alike the plant, so...different from others, that she clung with her own life on the line to Orianna as if she needed her, wanted..._her_. Just like the plant.

After a moment of silence, he decided to take the initiative.

"Beautiful plants, are they not?"

He watched how her eyes lifted themselves from the floor, her form bent at a ninety degree angle, turning her upper torso while the bottom remained still, looking at him as if she just found out he was still there, before nodding softly to the question.

"They...are exquisite."

Another lengthy silence continued. "My name is Orianna, sir, and it is pleasant to finally meet you."

He shook the outstretched metal hand, and was in awe with how soft they were. Hell, he would be holding this girl's hands all day if just for the comfort and softness; maybe that was why Caitlyn preferred to hold her hand? "Please, no 'sir', it makes me feel old. Call me Michael, or Mike for short."

"I see..." another lengthy silence carried, and Michael seemed to begin to think that this conversation was meeting little headway. Conversation was the way of loosening tongues, he understood, but this girl either wasn't much in the way of the verbal arts, or was more of a...thinker.

"They remind me of her."

The words, soft spoken and...almost human sounding, shocked him from his musing. He looked up in wonder, confused as to what she meant. When he asked her to elaborate, she did so.

"The daisies, they remind me of her." he needn't ask who 'her' was, since the topic was already on his addled mind for some time; his daughter had kept Orianna a secret from them for quite a while, it seemed. Quite the feat, considering.

"How so, my dear?"

The way he spoke screamed chivalry, blaring unwavering trust and dedication to his family.

"Well, Michael, when a plant touches your skin..."

(^^^^^^)

They had allowed Caitlyn to share her bedroom with Orianna, the strange metal robotic woman of both their minds.

As he sat backwards, leaning into the embrace of his pillow on his back, he reached for a small cabinet where a brown flask containing gin would sit. He lifted it to his wrinkled lips, sipping once before putting it back where it belonged, and grabbing a paperback book that rested besides it.

His wife crawled into the bed as well, opting for the more traditional approach of placing atop her nose some light reading glasses, un-tinted to allow easy reading.

A small moment of silence occurred before his wife spoke. "Well, Michael? What is she like? Is she right for our daughter?"

He ignored the question, flipping a page idly as he sipped some more gin form his flask, after a moment of contemplation he turned his head slightly, his greyed green eyes shining in the candlelight of the nearby wax fire emitter.

"Are you not concerned for the fact that she is autonomous, Helen?" his voice was not condescending, merely inquisitive; a risen eyebrow beyond the peak of his forehead answered that silent question for her. It was not condescending, she knew of her own insecurities about robots and the likes, but somehow, she wasn't that bothered. Perhaps it was the way Caitlyn had spoken of Orianna, as if she were human, or perhaps the way she smiled when the mere mention of the Lady of Clockwork came into the conversation. Either way, she was surprised by her own lack of...well, lack of hatred towards her daughter's robotic future wife.

"Should I be?" she retorted back; a small smug grin played his lips as he flipped another page, whispering to himself.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he jolted, as if shook awake, before settling.

"Nothing, my dear, simply thinking..."

She smiled for a second, before a frown covered her face. "You still haven't answered the question."

And with that she was surprised at the look of sheer determination in his eyes, the smile on his face and the wistful look upon his features. The small distant gaze that came with being locked within a garden of memories, but no tears accompanying; he clearly wanted to keep this memory, whatever it was, for a long time.

And so he regaled his talk with Orianna, and with each word that described the younger woman's thoughts on Caitlyn that she had conveyed to Michael; she began to tear up, smiling as she listened to her husband's fond memory.

Helen smiled, and already knew the answer to her own question.


End file.
